


Finding The Right Words

by prayfordean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, penpals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:45:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prayfordean/pseuds/prayfordean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel become penpal's during high school. For over a decade the pair continue to write letters to each other and though the communication slows, Dean's love for his precious friend grows. What happens when they finally meet face to face?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding The Right Words

It was February of 1994 when the list was passed around.

Today Dean’s English class was going to pick pen pals. Now this seemed a bit childish, yes, but Ms. Harvelle was sure this would be a good activity. Everyone seemed on board for it, except Dean.

Dean wasn’t the type to sit down and write a letter. Last time he did was probably fourth grade when his mother made him write a thank you to his uncle Bobby for the bike he bought him. What was the point? Face-to-face made more sense; It was more intimate. His mind just couldn’t work well enough to put his thoughts down on paper. 

Nevertheless, this was for a grade, so Dean couldn’t turn it down. It would only be for the rest of the semester, so what was there to worry about? Maybe if he was lucky he’d be matched with a cute girl. According to Ms. Harvelle, in Pontiac, Illinois there was a high school that they were paired with. She couldn’t turn down the offer.

When the paper came to him, he scanned it multiple times. There only were three names left up for grabs. None of which were girls, much to Dean’s dismay.

Ash Roberts | Male | 1501 7th Ave SW, Pontiac, IL, 61764  
Benny Lafitte | Male | 1329 Brooke ST, Pontiac, IL, 61764  
Castiel Milton | Male | 1178 Stewart Ln, Pontiac, IL, 61764  
None of these names sparked his interest until his eyes rested on the final one.

Castiel Milton.

What kind of name was that? Sounded like it jumped straight out of the Bible. Oh, who was he kidding? It probably did. That poor kid had to have been brought up around a Christian or Catholic family. Imagine having to go through life with such a wild name. Well, to be honest, religion wasn’t the sad part, it was forcing your child to live with a name like Castiel. Dean was glad he had a name that people at least gave him a high five for.

"Dean please hurry up, the others are waiting for the list", Ms. Harvelle barked from her desk. She was the kind of woman you didn’t keep waiting. 

Dean wrote down the address and signed off his name beside Castiel’s. No turning back now, he guessed. This actually could be fun.

The next day, the class began their letters. They decided to write them to start out, since the other high school approached them in the first place. It was out of courtesy, really.

The entire class period, Dean sat at his desk, eyes glued to the blank sheet in front of him. ”Come on brain, work. What do I even start with?”, he muttered. This was harder than he’d anticipated. So out of frustration he put the paper away and sighed. He’d just have to finish it at home. Why was writing so hard? Writing an essay, he could somehow mange. But talking to another person this way felt odd. Couldn’t an email suffice? Ms. Harvelle didn’t approve of the idea.

So at home after he finished dinner, he headed upstairs and sat down. It was time to get down to business. Sam, his younger brother who was laying on his bed, thought the idea of a pen pal was a pretty awesome thing. Hmm, maybe he could just have Sam write these for him…nah. The charade would be noticed sooner or later.

Dear Castiel,

Dean pressed the tip of the pencil into the paper and groaned. He had no clue what this guy liked. He had no idea if he was book-smart or street-smart. He didn’t know his favorite color. How could they even keep up a conversation? Should he include a picture of himself? It wasn’t required but what if Castiel did? He’d feel pressured to do it too.

"Dean, just ask the dude some questions. It’s not that hard. Then answer your own questions. Go back and forth. It’s simple.", Sam suggested. Dean shot him a glare.

"Yeah that’s easy for you to say"

My name is Dean Winchester. I’m 15 years old and I really love cars. I don’t really know what else to say. What do ya like to do? Do you have any siblings? I have a younger brother named Sam. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s pretty smart. Do you like Metallica? They’re one of my fave bands. 

Sorry this is short,

Dean.

It took less than a week for Dean to get a letter back from Castiel. As Ms Harvelle handed the envelopes out to the class, Dean tapped his pencil impatiently on the table. 

"Dean here’s yours", she chirped and set it in front of him.

The front of the envelope read “To Dean”, but in the most impressive handwriting Dean had ever seen from a high schooler. Dear lord. The penmanship could easily rival that of a college student’s. It almost made Dean feel embarrassed about his chicken scratch way of writing.

Without further adieu, he gently tore it open and retrieved the letter.

Dear Dean,

My name is Castiel Milton. But I believe you already knew that, seeing that you picked me. It’s a pleasure to be speaking with you. I hope we can keep this interesting for the time being. Yes, I do have siblings. one sister and 3 older brothers. I have heard of Metallica, but I’ve never listened to them. My family doesn’t really allow me to listen to anything like that. I’m sure they are a great group, though. I like to listen to classical music mostly. It’s what i grew up around. Anything mellow, too. My hobbies include reading, studying astrology, and playing the piano. Do you know how to play any instruments? You sound like the type to play the guitar, but that’s just a guess. 

Sincerely,

Castiel

Dean was utterly floored. Was he really talking to a high schooler? This guy sounded so formal, so proper. The most annoying part of all this was that Castiel guessed his favorite pass time. The guitar his father gave him for his seventh birthday was his prized possession. Too bad that was the last he saw of the son of a bitch. He left the next morning and never came back; said it was just too much for him, being domestic like this. But enough of that, that wasn’t the point now.

But for years this back-and-forth continued on. It honestly came as a shock to Dean. He would have never guessed that he’d keep up writing this dude for so long. After that semester ended, though, their letters weren’t weekly, more so monthly. He had to admit, Castiel, or Cas as he preferred to call him, was a pretty great guy.

Dean learned that Castiel had grown up being bullied and teased by his older brothers. Castiel learned that Dean’s mother took three jobs at one time when they were younger just to make ends meet. Dean learned that Castiel wasn’t as religious as his name perceived him to be. Castiel learned that Dean was working towards becoming an auto mechanic. Dean learned that Castiel learned the position of all the major constellations in the sky and studied them as often as he could. He wanted to be an astronomer someday.

But most importantly, Dean came to accept that, possibly, just possibly, the more he wrote the youngest Novak, the more he realized how much he wished to be by his side. But that was impossible. They lived thousands of miles apart.

The worst thing was that he had no idea if Castiel was even into guys.

It took three years of writing to him to actually gain some courage and include a photo. It was a picture of him from graduation. Donned in green and white, Dean stood beside his Chevy Impala proudly. While Dean waited for a response, which took almost a month, he felt a flutter inside. Was Castiel going to send a picture back? What if he thought he looked ugly? 

But luckily a month later he received his response and included was a photo as well. Dean was starstruck. 

Creamy brown, wind tousled hair. Sea-blue eyes that could pierce through diamonds. The most dashing smile Dean had ever seen. Castiel was angelic. That was the only word he could come up with to describe his friend’s beauty. Normally a man wasn’t considered pretty, but Castiel was the lone exception. All that was missing was a pair of wings and a halo.

During college, Dean and Castiel continued to write each other. They were sure to write at least once a month. Dean attended community college in San Diego while working at an auto repair shop. He was living the dream. Castiel on the other had went to Concordia University in Illinois. He of course was studying astronomy and was top of his class.

Thanks to Dean’s persistence, they finally dropped the letters and switched to texting. It felt so much easier. This way they could keep in contact daily. This way Dean’s heart could handle the distance between them. 

Now almost a decade after they began all this, Dean was still unsure of Castiel’s feelings. He was sure that Cas only thought of him as a friend, which broke his heart. But you should assume something, right? Yet, he was too frightened to know the truth. He was too terrified to know if Castiel was into guys or not. If his predictions were true, what would be the point of chatting anymore? 

He loved this man. It was undoubtedly true.

He loved his dry humor, he loved his ignorance. He loved his knowledge and loved his passion.

It was only when he was in hurrying in the coffee shop one morning before work that he discovered one last thing about his angel.

That his voice was gravelly and pure and lovely.

"One 16oz black coffee!" shouted the barista.

Dean was already behind schedule. If he didn’t make it to the bus soon, he’d have to haul ass across town to get to work. He wasn’t about to do that. Not today. Not when it was this hot out already.

Stepping towards the counter for his order, two hands came for the cup. One was his own. 

"Oh I’m sorry, was this yours? My mistake."

Dean grabbed the coffee and glanced at the man next to him. “It’s all good man—”

He nearly dropped his drink. Well, to be accurate, his breath nearly stopped and he felt a rush of emotions that felt so intense that they’d choke him. CPR wasn’t going to save him, he was already gone and his heart was leaping from his chest. He knew that face anywhere. 

God worked in mysterious ways and today was the day Dean finally believed it.

"Cas? Is that you, man?"


End file.
